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Being sick was the worst.
Luckily it was very predictable for you. It started with increasing sleepiness one week, and the bags under your eyes getting darker, no matter how much sleep you could get. Then it would progress in earnest, a tired feeling behind your eyes, and you swear you can feel your sinuses swelling. All you can do is hope the sickness won’t travel to your lungs.
When the drainage starts, it’s a losing battle. You wind up wrapped in blankets and huddling a tissue box as you feverishly slip in and out of sleep. One of the maids was kind enough to bring a wastebasket, though, you’ve already halfway filled it with used tissues.
“Mama, you need to drink something,” the calm voice of your eldest gently rouses you, and you blink at her, trying to get your bearings.
She hands you a cool glass of water, and you sit up, feebly sipping and almost groaning in relief as the water soothes your throat.
“Thank you Bela,” you whisper, “have the maids brought in snacks yet?”
“Crackers are on the table.”
Your hand sneaks out and pulls the plate of snacks closer to your cocoon of misery. The first bite tastes a bit like cardboard, though you are beginning to taste a bit of the buttery goodness that always soothes your tastebuds. Each mouthful helps settle your stomach, so it no longer complains about the constant drainage flowing from your sinuses.
“Does mother know how pathetic you are right now?” Cassandra asks as she flops into a chair next to you, “you look like shit, mama.”
You blink at your middle daughter, grumbling in protest.
“She had left the room before I woke up, but she probably knows,” you shiver as a chill finds its way through the blankets, “she’s probably had the maids reporting back to her.”
“Or she’s been listening to you sniffle and groan,” Daniela appears in your face, her golden eyes concerned as she takes in your pallor, “she hears everything,” Dani whispers as Cass laughs at your startled grunt.
“Dani,” you mumble, the rancid stench of blood and fresh meat that seems to permeate the youngest is overwhelming, “I love you, and I need you to back up.” The fact that the smell had registered past your congested sinuses is a miracle itself.
“Oops,” she apologizes as she gives you space, her fast movements make your head spin.
“Thanks bug,” you say, narrowing your eyes at the mess on her chin “did you eat someone today?”
“How could you tell?” Dani looks at you wide eyed.
You’d long since gotten used to their supernatural diets, and they’d been careful to keep the worst part of their needs confined to the cellars below. You knew of a couple prisoners that had been declared off-limits, and if the mess on her face was any clue, Dani may be in trouble.
“They’re all over your chin,” you point out, “might need to wash up before your mother finds out.”
Daniela freezes, mumbling “I was hungry mama,” before she sighs and hangs her head, “I’m so dead aren’t I?”
Her sisters are quick to pile on.
“Very”
“Grounded for a century.”
“She’s gonna chop off your hands and put them in a jar,” Cass laughed maniacally as Bela and Dani turn to her in horror.
“That’s a bit much,” you grumble in your wife’s defense, “I can guarantee it’ll be worse if you don't clean your face, firefly.”
“Ugh,” Dani whines, stomping her foot for effect, “fine. You’re right mama. I’ll go,-blech-,” she heaved, faux vomiting for maximum drama, “wash, -BLECH-, my face.”
“You’re a menace,” you shake your head at her antics, immediately regretting it when the congestion makes you nauseous.
“You love us,” Cassandra calls as she also leaves the room, stopping to pat the lump in the blankets that is your head. You grumble at the contact, simultaneously loving the affection and wincing from the ringing it causes in your ears.
Bela settles a hand on your shoulder, handing you a cup of tea.
“Ginger,” she says, answering your questioning look, “for your throat, and to settle your stomach.”
You eye the cup warily, but accept it nonetheless. The taste is as bitter as you remember, making you grimace as it hits your tongue. Bela laughs at your expression, and helps you settle back into your nest of blankets when the tea is gone. She pushes the coffee table closer to you, making sure your snacks are in easy reach.
“Mother should be done soon, want me to stay with you?” Bela asks while she runs her fingers through your hair.
“No, thatskay,” you mumble, already succumbing to sleep again, “don’t need babysat, just gonna nap.”
You don’t notice her kiss your cheek and leave the room.
You do notice when a gentle hand settles onto your shoulder and softly shakes you awake.
“Draga mea,” Alcina murmurs as you begin to rouse, “my love,”
“Hi,” you mumble as your eyes open to her visage. Your brows furrow as you yawn, stretching in place against the exhaustion that plagues you. A sleepy grin stretches across your face at the gentle and adoring look Alcina wears.
“Hello darling,” Alcina smiles at your sleepy expression, her gloved hand reaching to brush hair from your eyes, “how are you feeling?”
You nuzzle into the palm pressed against your cheek, grunting in displeasure when she pulls her hand away, only to sigh at the cool feeling of her bare palm against your forehead.
“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck Alci,” you answer, shivering as she strokes your hair, “but I’m ok,” you don’t want her to worry about you, not when it’s just allergies ruining your day.
“Darling,” Alcina frowns as she takes in your feeble state, “you are sick, and though you wish it was minor, you are obviously not okay,” she makes sure to hold your gaze until you nod in defeat, “have you eaten today, my love?”
You nod toward the empty dishes, explaining Bela’s diligent care of you all day long. Alcina smiles, pleased with her girls and their affection toward you. With a little convincing, you find yourself on the way to your chambers, held securely in Alcina’s arms.
She is gentle as she maneuvers you through the doorways and quickly settles you both into a soothing bath. Her deft fingers make quick work of shucking your clothes from your body, peeling the sweat soaked cloth from your feverish skin. Before you know it, you are sighing and groaning in relief as those same fingers massage shampoo into your scalp and gently scrub the sweat from your body.
Alcina laughs at your reaction, the gentle but quick rise and fall of her chest bouncing you out of your half snoozed state. Your furrowed brow as you fully wake only makes her laugh harder.
“Wh’so funny?” You grumble, slightly confused about the current state of affairs.
“Oh sweet darling,” she coos as her laughter subsides, tucking your head back in its place against her chest, “you make the cutest noises.”
“C’mon Alci,” you whine, “I’m barely functioning right now.”
“I know darling,” you can hear the smile in her voice as she resumes her diligent washing, “which is why I enjoy it so. In your delirious state, you still seek out my touch,” a kiss is pressed into your hairline, “my poor, dead heart simply cannot take it.”
You give a half- hearted growl, not fully offended at the amusement she finds in your reactions. Alcina doesn’t get sick, but you can recall teasing her in a similar manner the last time she was recovering post- mutation.
When you next open your eyes, you are secure in your bed, naked under the covers as Alcina answers the door. You take the moment to appreciate the sight, trailing the beautiful curves that aren’t hidden at all beneath the sheer robe she has chosen to wear. You couldn’t stop the hum of appreciation, though you were rewarded with a wet hacking cough as your lungs betrayed you.
It wracks your body, all of your muscles clenching as your diaphragm rapidly contracts, and tries to expel itself from your torso. You groan and flop back against the silk covered pillows when it finally subsides.
The bed dips next to you and you feel Alcina’s hand settle against your forehead again.
“Still feverish, my love,” she says, helping you sit up against the pillows. She insistently feed you the broth she had brought up from the kitchens, calmly ignoring your feeble attempts to dodge the spoon. “You will not improve without sustenance, darling,” her patient voice cajoled you into accepting half the bowl, before you had to turn away lest it all make a return appearance.
“Good girl,” Alcina praised, settling you back down against her, “good job, my sweet love.”
Another cough wracked your body, though this time, you felt her large hands helping to hold you upright, soothing your muscles when the fit passed.
“Damnit,” you groaned, the aching pain and wheezing meaning only one thing. Bronchitis always made your asthma flare in the worst way, and you knew it would be a week before you felt 100%, and only after steroids.
“I’ve already phoned the physician, sweet darling,” Alcina kisses your forehead, “it will be over soon enough.”
She helps you use your inhaler, starting the process of breaking up the gunk that has settled in your lungs. Sure enough, you can breathe easier, the shake in your hands confirming that your breathing had been labored for a few hours without your notice.
“I’m sorry Alci,” you say as she snuggles you close, “of all the things to be awful at, my body chooses breathing,” a sigh escapes before another coughing fit erupts, this one less violent.
“Shh, draga mea,” Alcina kisses your head and buries her nose in your neck, “do not apologize for things outside of your control.”
“Still,” you protest, “I know I’m going to be an aggressive, grumpy mess for the next few days, and I hate doing that to you and the girls.”
“True, you do tend to become quite adorably ferocious when faced with oral steroids,” Alcina grinned, “I have never counted it against you, my love.”
You make a face, pouting at her calling your moodiness adorable.
“The fact that you do your best to avoid such confrontations is not lost on myself, or the girls. They will always forgive you, darling,” another kiss is pressed against your skin, “they can tell when you are not yourself.”
“Hmm,” you make a non committal hum, unwilling to give up your stance. Truly you despise how the steroids seem to keep you on a hair trigger, even if Alcina and the girls were far more infamous for their destructive wrath. When you shouted at the girls, the hurt look that flashed across their face broke your heart every time, and you didn’t want to cause that anymore.
Alcina is quick to wrap you into her arms, and let you rest your feverish body against her cool skin. She loves to feel you wrapped up in her embrace, and you relish every moment you spend feeling so secure and protected.
Even when your body aches and shivers with feverish chill, you feel warmed and content in her arms.
“I love you, sweet girl,” Alcina tilts your chin to catch your lips in a sweet kiss, “I love how much you care for our girls,” another smooch, “I love how you try so hard to feel worthy of our love,” she kisses your nose, “even though in truth, we do not deserve you.”
She silences your grumbling protests with more kisses, before tucking you under her chin.
“I adore you darling, and the girls adore you as well. I know that just by the faint scent I caught as I carried you in here that they cared enough to check in on you in your feeble state,” she rests her cheek on your head, “though, which one consumed the prisoner, darling?”
“Alci,” you grumble half-heartedly, “please don’t make me snitch on our girl.”
“Very well, my love. I shall have to ask them directly.”
“Thank you,”
“Though their freshly cleaned scent should give them away.”
“Very likely.”
You feel her chuckle as you drift back to sleep.